


Faith And Forgiveness

by Hetaliano



Category: South Park
Genre: Denial, Homophobia, M/M, Religion, Sex, Stan is a good christian boy, faith - Freeform, idk - Freeform, not really - Freeform, self-homophobia, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 18:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hetaliano/pseuds/Hetaliano
Summary: Fact: Stan Marsh is dating Wendy Testaburger.Myth: Stan Marsh likes Wendy Testaburger.





	Faith And Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, but this is a reason I shouldn't be allowed to exist at 2AM
> 
> Also, I myself am not Christian. I went to a school where Christianity was basically heavily enforced, but I think it only helped solidify my atheism, aha. Point being, I'm not trying to offend anyone with this, and I don't think it would, but idk.

Fact: Stan Marsh is dating Wendy Testaburger.

Myth: Stan Marsh likes Wendy Testaburger.

Stan had made the biggest fuss ever over the last three years of being in love with the girl beside him, but being too scared to ask her out. But it had all been a front, a mask. He couldn’t deal with it, with his own feelings. They were raw, alien even, like nothing he’d ever felt, and _wrong,_ just plain wrong. He knew it. He knew they were, so he had to hide. He built this fake crush, worked impossibly against his own heart to get even himself to believe it. At some points he’d managed it, convincing himself he’d successfully transferred his feelings. But then he’d see the person he was really after, and his whole fake love would come crashing down around him, leaving him raw and exposed.

But he rebuilt, every time. He rebuilt because it was what he had to do. It was what God wanted him to do. Rebuild. Rebuild. Rebuild. An endless cycle of torment. Rebuild. Destroy. Rebuild. Destroy. Sometimes, he conversed with Satan, who would tell him to stop. Stop rebuilding. Face the destruction. Embrace it. You can’t create something from nothingness, which is exactly what God was making him do. But Satan preys on the weaknesses of men, on sloth, greed, gluttony, wrath, envy, pride and lust, so he is not to be trusted. But God is forgiving. We must do what God tells us to avoid and repent for sin. Even if it is the impossible. So he continues to rebuild.

A front, that’s what it is. Almost comparable to a war front. He faces an endless battle in which he cannot win, but he keeps trying. He tries his hardest, fighting alone against the swelling sea of his own heart. Because he must. If he gives up, he falls victim to his heart, to Satan, to _wrong_. But he’s tired. So tired. Is it really that bad to hold hands with Satan, to listen to one’s desires and wants?

Homosexuality is wrong. Adam and Eve were made for each other, to populate the Earth; it was their purpose, as it is ours. We are placed on this Earth to create, to ensure the continued survival of our race. That is his purpose. That’s why he is here, given the body he was given. If only his heart could see reason, then he could fulfil his purpose, he could be happy.

His eyes met that of the boy’s across the room, but he couldn’t tear away his gaze, no matter how he tried. The boy gave a soft smile, one Stan imitated emptily. He wanted the smile to be his, to be by his side, without the guilt it brought. He wanted to feel his lips on those lips, run a hand through those locks. He turned back to his paper, leaving Stan staring at the way his hand moved with the pen, gliding across the paper.

He needed to get out. He needed to get away from the boy, forever. As soon as he was done with school, he’d be gone. Out of this tiny mountain town and gone, without even a glance over his shoulder. He would be happy. He would no longer be tormented by the daily sight of the boy of his affections, or the painfully close proximity which they usually shared. Rebuild, without the destruction. Freedom; shrugging off the shackles of young love and hormones which held him chained to the boy across the room.

That’s all it is. Hormones. Teenage confusion. People aren’t made like that. It’s a choice. They choose to be homosexual. They choose to be shunned. They choose Satan over God’s love. God has a place for everyone, aside those who choose Satan. He tests one’s love for His mighty self. He sends Satan to test mortals, to decide whether they are worthy of a place at His side. He’s worthy. Stan Marsh believes he is worthy to stand by God as one of His children. Satan is testing him, but he will not give.

The boy’s hair is red, a stark reminder of the fiery depths of hell and how wrong it is to be staring at it yet again. Better yet, the boy is not a child of God, he is a heretic. Just another proof as to the severe wrongness of it all. He is a tempter, trying to coax out the bad side of men, as a rat to cheese. He has been put on this Earth to test his will against Satan. But he is stronger than that. One boy is not enough to break down the walls of his castle. One boy is not enough to stop him from standing by His side.

His eyes are relentless, He is always watching, He always knows. His word is law. Laws are not made to be broken, they are made to be followed. Homosexuality is a sin. A sin. Sinning will be punished. Adam and Eve were punished for falling victim to sin. This will not be his fate. He will rise above the piercing eyes of the tempter. He will not fall victim to sin.

He cannot help the boy invading his dreams. He cannot help the direction his dreams take. They are manipulated. Just another phase of the test. He cannot help the way his body reacts. Surely, it is all manipulated, a twisted way to test his faith. But Stan Marsh is faithful. He will rise, regardless of the challenges thrown his way. Regardless of how real and painful his feelings for the red-head feel. They are not. They are an illusion, manipulated like everything else.

But Stan Marsh cannot help but melt when he feels those lips on his own again, when the throes of passion overtake and cloud his mind in the tempter’s bed, their limbs entangled and sweat clinging to every pore of their bodies, again. With his manhood buried deep within the dirty places of the heretic’s body and the boy digging his nails across his back, crying out in pleasure, again. He cannot help but want for nothing other than the feeling the boy gives him in these moments, clearing his mind of all pain and doubt, of all suffering.

He is sinning, he knows it. He’s sinning in more ways than one, he hates it. But God is forgiving. He prays. He begs for His forgiveness. He goes to church, he confesses his sins. But he does the same thing next week. Rebuild. Destroy. Rebuild. Destroy. An endless cycle of torment.

**Author's Note:**

> Eek that was quite possibly one of the oddest things I've ever written. I was supposed to be writing another chapter for my ongoing Style fic, (actually, I should have been sleeping, but you know,) but that happened instead aha


End file.
